Afterglow
by FunWhileItLasted
Summary: The title says it all - a little something to blow off yesterday's steam. Shortie.


I needed some time to think about what happened yesterday, and thought of a short story: '_TCOT twenty-three reviews on a first chapter'. _

Instead, I thought of this. The title says it all, and it's short, and it's what it's about. After this, let's go back to "business", please. Life's too short to pay attention to negativity for no other purpose than to just be negative.

Thank you, all of you, who've been supportive and encouraging all fanfiction writers, myself included.

_**Afterglow**_

Becoming aware, he's barely able to keep his heftiness of her, his open mouth against her shoulder, her thighs wrapped tightly around his. The fingers that have been effectively teasing him, before he took charge, are now runnning over his skull, through his thinning grey hair. The incredible capable hands stroke his face, hold him against her, while they both slowly reclaim consciousness.

" I love you … " She whispers the three words at the same moment they leave his own lips. Simultaneousness has all kinds of benefits.

They've just practiced what they preach, as a matter of speech.

He's panting still, in her rhythm, silently, long, there's no need to hasten. They have all the time in the world. The world outside hasn't stopped moving, but has had the courtesy of leaving them in another world, a universe of their own, the curtains closed, the lights on low.

Still on top of her, he tilts his head, looks at her face. Her eyes are closed, the concentrating frown on her forehead is gradually disappearing and her breathing is leveling.

He's never seen her more beautiful than this. Never.

He kisses her chin, her flushed cheeks, her forehead. Her hands still hold his face as she opens her glistening eyes to him, her fingers caressing his etched skin.

Earlier, the same fingers started this, by just slipping in between the stiff cotton of his sleeves, caressing the soft hairs there. It was this all but innocent gesture, combined with her throaty laughter, loud at first then softening while her eyes, dancing with seductiveness, well-trained on his vulnerabilties, invited him to kiss her scandalously and deeply, undress her with meticulous care and have her in the sweetest way possible.

He eases out of her, feels and hears her shudder and smiles when he turns, to lay on his back and to pull her against him, but she leaves him and his loving embrace. He knows it's just momentarily, and that she will be back soon. There are practicalities to be dealt with now.

He counts the seconds he's alone and thinks of the turmoil of the day, the commotion that just developed, about what people think of the current case, and the speculation about its outcome. About suggestion, manipulation, commonplaces in the world of media nowadays.

When she comes back to their bed, she seeks his warmth, settling her softness into his arms, molding against him gently, welcoming his hand in her hair while it presses the glowing skin of her cheek against his damp chest. He still sweats, does nothing to hide it or dry himself and she doesn't mind at all, revels in it. It's more Perry Mason than she feels she deserves, and she wants the sensation to permeate her every pore.

His scent, remainders of his after shave, some of his perspiration, and the scent of them together have filled the air in the room, their world, for now.

Yet, the world outside seeps through. It just can't be helped.

The world needs Perry Mason, and Perry Mason needs Della Street and Della Street needs Perry Mason, and Perry Mason and Della Street are needed in the world. And so, the circle is complete.

They know it. And it's fine, just fine.

Soon, a knock on the door will sound, a phone will ring, or a thought will creep through their momentarily consummated minds, and they will start working again.

" Perry? " Her voice comes from far.

" Della? "

" I was just thinking about this memo of Brett Huston. "

" What about it? "

" It was somehow dispersed in a way that everybody knew about its contents. "

" Yes. "

" Could there be another reason for Brett Huston to just comment on everybody without constructive thought? I mean, it doesn't make sense at all. Why would he just spread these comments, for what purpose? I mean, he knew that it would hurt people, but he also knew it wouldn't get him very far ? The people he wrote about were all sensible enough to know that there were consequences, but they could handle them. I'd say there was no motive for murder. "

" What are you suggesting? To forget about the memo? "

" Yes, I think we might be paying too much attention to it. I think it might not have anything to do with the case we're working on. What if we just start again where we left of, as if that memo doesn't exist? As if nothing happened with it ? "

He kisses her sweet lips slowly. She could have a point. " Yes, let's do that. "

" I'll get the files. " She leaves their embrace, and then their bed, elegantly.

" Yes. " He watches her cherishing her curves into a light robe, as she hurries a little and enters their home office, next to their bed room.

He reaches out for the small table on her side of the bed, picks up a pen, a notepad, and starts writing.

_= Complete =_


End file.
